Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine.

Thanks to ishandahalf, heartsyhawk, Chica De Los Ojos Café, Episodic, enchantedlight, AnimeSiren, Antonia, fudgebrowne, MidniteAngelGoth, untouchablegoth, Miss Ginny, and Green Bird 2071 for reviewing the last chapter!

Questions/Comments:

Ishandahalf: Actually ish, I think you have been right in guessing throughout all of my stories. Damn, I guess that means I'm not being tricky enough….

Green Bird 2071: I'm not a fan of the whole Magneto/Rogue thing either. And besides, this is loosely based on the Evolution series. Thanks for being thrilled!

Sorry to keep you guys hanging with the last chapter…..

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Rogue had driven this route thousands of times over the last two years. On this particular day, as she drove back to pick up her book bag, she was smiling. She could touch. Finally.

She pulled into space number 9 and turned off the ignition. Slipping the keys into her cardigan pocket, she locked the door and climbed out. Really, she was glad to have an excuse to come back. Pietro had kicked her out sooner than she had wished.

For all of his shortcomings, and all of their arguments, Rogue could not leave him. He had agreed to wait until she could touch. She didn't think many men would have done that.

Using the key he had given her she opened the front door of the apartment and headed to the elevator. The elevator was made of a metallic, mirror like material, so Rogue took a second to evaluate her appearance. She smoothed down her floral dress, the lace peaking out at the ends.

As the elevator chimed and the door opened, she walked out, her heels clicking. She had seen Pietro's car parked outside, so she knew he had returned straight home. Reaching his door, she decided not to knock.

It was dark in the large living room. Dark and empty. Keeping the lights off she moved to the back of the apartment. That was when she first heard the noise.

Laughter.

Unless he was crazy, and had a high pitched laugh, Pietro wasn't alone.

Her heels were clicking loudly against the wooden floorboards, and reaching down she un-strapped them, afraid to make any sound.

At this stage Rogue was completely aware of what might be happening, but she let denial form it's own optimism. Lightly, she pushed open the bedroom door, lit only by one dim light.

No one was inside. But clothes lay stripped along the carpet. Rogue leaned down, and with one finger lifted up a lacy bra. In anger she flung it across the room, but she kept silent, not letting a scream emit.

The woman in the bathroom, whoever wore the bra Rogue had just touched, screamed without a care. And then laughed again.

They had left the door open part way, and although Rogue knew she shouldn't, she moved forward, placing her hand against the door.

She let it open a little more. The shower was steamed, allowing only the silhouettes of the bodies behind it to be visible. Rogue was glad for this.

But it was Pietro and another woman. And they were naked. And Rogue thought she might puke.

But surprisingly, she remained calm, and quietly closed the door. They hadn't seen her. The thoughts that flew through her head next should have scared her, but it was like she was drunk. Without a sound she walked back out of the apartment and shut the door.

Each floor of the apartment building had a tiny lobby, set with two chairs and a bench. Letting herself slump onto the bench, Rogue's eyes glazed over, her concentration shot. Slowly, she reached down and strapped her shoes back on.

After all of that, she couldn't speak, she couldn't think. But she could put her shoes back on. She nearly laughed, her head falling into her hands.

And then she waited.

It must have been three hours. But finally, a tall blonde woman stepped out of the door. She had a beautiful smile plastered on her perfect features. Long legs, tiny waist, yet voluptuous body. Leaning in she, her face obscured by the wall, she must have been giving Pietro a goodbye kiss.

Rogue blinked. She had been waiting. The woman didn't even notice her as she headed for the elevator and pressed the button.

Rogue stood up, her posture straight, her eyes clear. She swept back a few stray hair strands from her face and adjusted her sweater.

The woman didn't have a clue who Rogue was. Staring up at the elevator dial, Rogue watched the numbers move up and up. It was always slow.

Then she turned her attention to the woman. And she stared. Finally, uncomfortable perhaps, the woman twisted around, her nose turned up, her eyes screaming annoyance. She knew she was beautiful.

"Can I help you?"

Rogue smiled. She supposed she could, so she nodded.

And leaning one hand in she grasped onto the woman's perfect neck.

She only meant to take a little. Steal a few moments with Pietro. She could see the woman, Carol Danvers, life flashing forward, backward, fast. Rogue couldn't' let go. She remembered she tried. She felt tears streaming down her face, watching the woman before her try to scream, no words able to escape her throat.

And then Carol collapsed, fainted, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Rogue fell too, her body hitting the ground hard, the world going black around her.

…………………………………

She had driven for hours the next week. Tears were constantly running down her face, sometimes mixed with laughter. She was surprised she would remember to stop for gas.

But never food. Everything else that should matter in life dissipated. She had taken someone's life. The doctor's hadn't been able to explain it. They thought Carol had a stroke, or something natural.

But really Rogue had killed her.

For several long, if not impossible to count, hours, Rogue had managed to forget just why she had done it in the first place. Who Carol really was. Where she had been.

She had not seen Pietro since. She had not been able to confront him, scream at him, cry in front of him. He was a coward, and he had run, as he was always running.

But the same could be said for Rogue.

Gritting her teeth, and pressing harder on the gas, she told herself she was nothing like Pietro. And, she never had been.

She remembered a night over a year ago, when she had been contemplating dumping Pietro. What love they may have shared with confusion early on had slowly faded, and Rogue had always blamed it on her inability to touch.

She had contemplated dumping Pietro many times. That should have been her first sign. But a million reasons would flash before her when she saw him the next day. Reasons that could not give her the voice to say goodbye.

And they were all selfish.

She didn't want him to see anyone else. She didn't want him to fall in love. Start a family. Realize there were better women out there than her. Forget her.

Rogue laughed bitterly to herself at the absurdity of it all now. She had wasted so much time trying to maintain everything they had only to have him throw it right back in her face.

And he didn't even have the nerve to stick around and say sorry or goodbye.

Then, in the midst of her thoughts, blinding yellow lights shone through her windshield. She didn't even have a split second to realize she had driven into the other lane.

………………………………………..

She left the last part out. Remy didn't need to know about her accident. She hadn't been hurt, thanks to Carol's new powers. No one had been hurt, except her car.

Besides, there were no words between them now. He had swooped down to give her a hug. To comfort. And neither of them had been able to get back up.

And Rogue had to admit she had never felt more comfortable next to any man. They remained that way for the rest of the night, and that allowed Rogue to finally sleep.

……………………………………………………

Rogue gave a loud yawn, not even covering her mouth to absorb it.

"Well, this isn't the best part about being an X-Man."
Rogue rolled her eyes and tapped the arm of her chair. Her eyes were lazily monitoring the screens in front of her, as she swiveled around in her chair.

She swung around to face Jean Grey, the woman she had been stuck doing surveillance duty with. The woman sat with amazing posture, pristine in her X-Man spandex, her red hair falling to her waist, as she paid close attention to every screen.

"I think I was meant for something like this," she continued matter-of-factly.

Rogue gave a soft laugh, and returned her attention back to the monitors.

"No, seriously, I always thought I would become a doctor. I was pre med before Apocalypse. But this whole idea of a team of mutants working to help humanity," She paused, biting her lip, "it fits me better."

"Is it because you're a mutant?" Rogue asked.

Jean looked down to the keyboard in front of her. "I suppose so."

Rogue rested an elbow against the desktop. "Well, Ah for one don't care for my powers. Ah woulda rather been born with out them."

Jean looked up, her face fighting to stay stern, but her jaw quivering, as if working to find the right emotion.

"But without them, you probably wouldn't have survived this."

Rogue looked down to her fingers. "Yes, there is always that."

"What's that?"

Rogue looked up to repeat herself, but Jean was looking beyond her, to the screen behind her. Rogue swung her head around picking up on the monitor that watched the outside fields. A man was making his way through the weeds and rocks.

Jean pressed a couple of buttons, and every monitor focused in on the man, zooming in.

"He's kinda cute," Jean said offhandedly.

Rogue gulped, watching the man, appearing to struggle, make his way to the building. It was Scott.

"What's he doing here?"

Jean lifted herself up off her elbows, sitting straight once again.

"Do you know him?"

Rogue ignored Jean and stood up, putting her leather jacket back on.

"Ah have ta find Remy."

She was moving forward to the door when a pink force field blocked her exit. Spinning around, she watched Jean's defiant features hold her in place.

"Is the man a danger Rogue?"

"No. Don't call anyone just yet. He's a friend of Remy's."

Jean released the pink bubble and Rogue walked through the door, picking up her steps as she headed down the hallway.

Halfway to the bedroom section of the facility, Rogue decided she had best greet Scott before someone else found him.

When she got to the entrance she figured he would make it to first, she discovered she was too late for that.

Scott was pressed up to the wall by the man known simply as Wolverine, his claws extended towards Scott's neck.

"Wolverine, put him down sugah," Rogue tried.

The man looked to Rogue briefly. They had only ever spoken once.

"Ya know this man Stripes?"

He never seemed to remember her name.

"Yes, now put him down."

"Well, I would darlin', cept', this man's got the smell of Apocalypse all over him."

Rogue met Scott's eyes, only to get frustrated by the visor that hid them. But the rest of his face proved very well his guilt.

"Look, you have to let me down. I'm here to warn all of you."

Rogue walked closer.

"You were working for Apocalypse this whole time?"

Scott swallowed and sweat started to spill down the sides of his face.

"No chere. Not directly. Am I right mon ami?"

Remy. She felt his hand touch her shoulder, and she looked up.

Scott nodded vigorously.

"Why don't you put him down homme. Let him explain."

Wolverine growled, but his claws slid back into his skin and he dropped Scott, taking a step back.

"You better have a damn good reason ta be here kid."

Scott took a deep breath and climbed back up, his back to the wall.

"Apocalypse knows about this island. He knows it had become a safe haven for mutants, and he was counting on that. He will be here within the next day."

"Who's he bringing with em'?" Wolverine asked, crossing his arms.

"Everyone. The Horsemen, the soldiers." Scott shrugged, letting his arms drop to their sides.

Rogue looked back and forth between Remy and Scott.

"Ah don't understand Remy. You knew?"

Remy squinted his eyes, keeping his expression stern. "Scott works for a man named Nathaniel Essex, de same man I once worked for. He's a scientist, obsessed with the idea of creating de perfect mutant." Remy took a step towards Scott. "He must have created Apocalypse's cloned army, non?"

Scott nodded, just as several more members of the team joined the room.

Remy turned around to face the crowd, his expression strangely excited.

"Better get ready mes amis, we got an army to fight."

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